


Slow Churned

by inthebackoftheimpala (Wishme)



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishme/pseuds/inthebackoftheimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 12--Eating Ice Cream</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Churned

 

The hunting life isn’t easy. At least, not the way the Winchesters do it. On the road somewhat constantly, too familiar with every type of shitty motel room across the lower 48, it’s a life that leeches energy from your bones, leaves you hard and lean. But there’s still room for little luxuries. Like diner food and piss-water beer, a constant in the life of the Winchesters was ice cream.

 

Every gas station had a small cooler with Push-up pops, Drumsticks, Big Sticks, and other frozen treats and most diners served generous dishes of ice cream with extra syrup for the “cute growing boys.” It was a treat they didn’t get all the time, but it was something to look forward to when the days in the car were long and dusty, when John was short and too tired. He did what he could—took the boys to the swimming holes outside of small towns with a coupe of popsicles, Choco Tacos and the Wizard of Oz some rainy nights, out for a small scoop at a local mom and pop where the bubble gum ice cream had real bits of bubble gum to save in your cheek to blow a bubble before it loses all flavor. At least, when he remembered. More often Dean would run down to the gas station and they'd split an ice cream sandwich and hope John would come home. 

 

Ice Cream. Simple, constant, and readily available—everything Dean Winchester likes. Which is why, of course, there’s always at least a pint in the bunker’s freezer. Lebanon might be small, but it’s got a well stocked Kroger and boasts not one, but two, Baskin Robbins and a couple of Dairy Queens.  They have ice cream covered.

 

Dean’s favorite is rocky road, but he’s not picky. He’ll eat pretty much anything except for vanilla which can only be eaten on top of pie. Surprising to some, Sam is a sucker for Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked. When Dean goes to restock, he’ll bring home Sam's requested frozen yogurt (plain with berries on top and maybe a few dark chocolate chips) about two thirds of the time, but every so often he'll bring home the other. Sam makes a show of complaining, but without fail the entire thing is gone the next day. Once, Dean caught Sam in the kitchen still damp from his morning run, scraping the last few bites from the carton. "Fuck you" is difficult to say around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie dough bits.

 

When Cas comes to stay, Dean drags him along on the next ice cream run. They end up spending almost an hour at Baskin Robbins with the poor high school kid manning the counter. Cas tries each flavor—Gold Medal Ribbon, Daquiri Ice, Jamoca Almond Fudge, Pralines & Cream, Rainbow Sherbet—building a small pyramid of used taster spoons on top of the case before settling on Cherries Jubilee. Dean makes a small face and orders a double Rocky Road. They head out of the store, bickering, and the kid closes shop that night wondering if love isn’t about explaining food dyes and taking offered bites of ice cream you hate just to make your person happy.

 

 

Most of the time, though, they’ll grab a gallon of something at the store and scoop it out into mismatched bowls. Sam sprawls over the armchair like it's his job and Cas and Dean take the couch, on opposite sides, but leaning center. They've got stacks of DVDs to get through and Charlie set up her Netflix account for them the same weekend she brought them a PS3. "There are many types of education. I'm going to school you in Mario Kart,” she had said. And she did. The last time she'd been by Cas had almost beaten her on the last lap, the brothers Winchester far behind. Dean had grumbled and tossed the controller aside, Charlie crowing in his face. Winner, of course, picked the ice cream for the night so bowls of rainbow sherbet were passed around.

 

 

Some summer days they loiter in the parking lot of the Dairy Queen, Dean perched on Baby’s trunk, lapping up drips from chocolate dipped cones. Teenagers come by in packs on skateboards and on foot, chowing down fries and chili cheese dogs and Blizzards packed with more candy than soft serve before heading down to watch the summer league game at the high school. Girls in tank tops and boys in low slung shorts bump hips, sharing bites of whatever, stealing small glances when their friends aren’t looking. One hand angling his cone so his hand remained drip free, Dean snags fingers of the other through Cas’s belt loop, tugging the other man closer between his legs. They stand there intent on their cones, Dean’s fingers on Cas’s hip and Cas’s arm on Dean’s leg the only two points of contact. Cheering from the stadium rolls down the road and Dean presses sticky lips  against Cas’s temple.

 


End file.
